A Midnight Stroll
by TibiIpsiDicVere
Summary: Jem is ill, and Tessa and Will are left alone...


It was one of his bad days.

Jem's sheets were only pulled up to his waist, but his shirt was suffused with sweat from the fever he had had overcome not long ago. His skin was alarmingly pale, paler than Will's own with the stolid pastiness that heralded ill health. He was completely still, asleep.

_It had been worse,_ Will thought.

It was late in the evening — Will had skipped dinner, yet again. If Will was honest with himself, he had utilised Jem's illness as reason to avoid Tessa. Not that his endeavors were ever successful. That, and the unbearable happiness bursting from Charlotte and Henry that grated, as if at an open wound. Will almost missed Jessamine's presence in the face of them.

Sometimes Will thought that the only thing keeping him from quitting the Institute altogether was Cecily. But she was asleep, as was likely everybody apart from himself.

Will's eyes flashed to the figure at Jem's prostrate side.

Tessa was also asleep; thick dark brown curls had escaped from the pins in her hair, wisping around her face. She leaned her head to the side, against the high-backed wooden chair that Will himself had slept in so many times to know intimately how certain it was to give you a stiff neck that was virtually unmovable in the morning.

Her expression was drawn, her brow contracted over her closed eyes. Her mouth was parted slightly. She looked incredibly vulnerable, Will thought. She looked unhappy.

Will was suddenly finding it difficult to breathe. He was careful, so meticulous with his thoughts around her now. Now that he knew — knew that there never had been, and there never would be, a hope in the fieriest circles of hell that she would ever return his feelings; he could never let himself give in to what he felt. He could never allow himself to think, or acknowledge, what he knew in the fabric of his soul that he felt for her.

But Will felt tired from the constant, unremitting effort of having to suppress the feelings that stalked his movements every moment of every day. It was a tiredness as immeasurable and encompassing as the night sky; it entangled his mind, his heart and his soul with tentacles that held in him in subjugation of the hell he had known for so long — never demanding less than the sacrifice of every good thing he had left in him. And Will gave it.

He felt a melody of emotions, standing in front of her — caustic and cutting, but he told himself he only felt envy for Tessa. Nothing else. He envied Tessa the ease with which she had fallen asleep at her lover's side, and how she could breathe in and out so delicately, uncomfortable though she surely was, and how she could close her beautiful eyes untroubled—

She twitched, her head jerking to the other shoulder. Her breaths became more laborious, and by degrees, she tossed and turned her head and her hands gripped the hard, worn wooden arms of the chair. She slumped downwards, her skirts revealing the tip of her ankle, her bodice sliding upwards, making it even harder for her to breathe.

The frown creasing the creamy skin on her forehead, where a slight sheen was forming, darkened the shadows under her eyes. She made a moaning sound in the back of her throat, as if she was in pain.

It was only quiet, though Will's gaze skipped to Jem. He was still soundly asleep, his figure still disturbingly motionless. He had not heard.

Will looked around, desperate. _If Tess is asleep_, Will thought, i_t would be far too late to wake one of the servants. _

Will eyed Tessa and simultaneously rejoiced and hated the task now before him. Tessa should not have been in Jem's room this late anyhow, but Will was incapable of simply leaving her in such a condition; both of them helpless.

Will approached her warily, but she gave no indication that she had registered his proximity. By way of a test, Will gently moved a spiral of dark hair from her cheek behind her ear.

Nothing. She only continued to moan with greater distress.

Will moved his hands to her shoulders, and shook her gently, remembering with painful clarity the last time he had done this — trying to wake her from one of her nightmares. He seemed to be always doing it.

Will shook her harder, but if anything the motion seemed to exacerbate the intensity of whatever was taking place behind her eyelids. Will glanced around the half-lit room, looking for help that he knew was not there.

Will moved his hand behind her head, until it was placed in the middle of her back, and placed the other one in the crook of her legs, lifting, until she curled around his arms. She smelled lovely. Lavender. Will wondered if that scent would haunt even his skeleton when he was dead.

She made a half-gasping sound, as if she had just taken a blow.

She was a cumbersome weight because of her dress, and the multitudinous skirts which made it difficult to get a decent grip on her.

Will was terrified of dropping her, despite the fact that she was not heavy in the slightest. The muscles in his arms felt peculiarly weak, the thrilling of adrenaline making his entire body shake slightly. Or perhaps it was just who he was carrying.

Her head fell over his right arm, bobbing slightly as Will attempting to walk her gently, without jolting her, to Jem's door.

Unable to tear his eyes from Tessa's working expression over his forearm, Will kicked the door open, which was thankfully ajar.

The corridors were pitch black. But it mattered not; Will could have found his way to Tessa's bedroom blind. He could not see how Tessa was faring in his arms, though she still made noises. Will flinched with every sound. He couldn't deny that he was feeling her pain with her, as if it was his own. It _was _his own.

Will felt a faint sense of disappointment when they reached her bedroom door. He used his bare elbow from the rolled sleeves of his shirt to twist the door knob.

With a slight creak, he entered her bedroom and was greeted by a waft of a soft, soapy, sleepy and seductive lavender scent the pervaded the entire room.

_Sophie must have drawn the curtains, _Will surmised. The room was black as velvet, though Will could distinguish the shape of her four-poster bed in the shadows.

At that moment, Tess jerked violently, as if she was desirous to extricate herself from his arms. Will caught her and redoubled his grip, placing her gently down on the bed.

Will set about making some light in the room while Tessa behind him, tossed and moaned and cried.

When he had lit a lamp, he turned back to her and discovered that her nightmare had indeed worsened. Sweat beaded her forehead and she heaved her breath. Her fingers clasped the cold sheets beneath her so tightly she looked ready to rip them. Her body arched, as if somebody was torturing her.

The sounds she was making were like one who is in tears, though none stained her cheeks. She thrashed her head back and forth on the pillow; her hands pulling at her bedsheets in frustration.

Will moved towards her and wondered if he should renew his entreaty to wake her again. "Will," She said.

Will stopped, paralysed. He looked deeply into her sad face, and saw that she was asleep. He couldn't be sure he perceived a tear scrawling down her left cheek until she brought her face level again.

But there it was. A single tear.

"Will," the sound was choked, as if wrested out of her.

She said his name again, and again. Will scarcely knew what to do with himself, such were the uneven palpitations of his heart. Instead, he simply stood there, wide-eyed, feeling very foolish and as if someone had hit him over the head with a large block of stone.

"I—I'm sorry," Another tear raced down her other cheek. "Forgive me, pl— I'm sorry, so sorry,"

She thrashed, moaning and crying. The sounds rent him apart and he felt chaos inside of him. Chaos. He couldn't conceive what to do now, how he should act.

But he found his feet taking himself over to her, closer, and hot tears spiking in his eyes. He leaned over her just as she she apologised to him again. Her voice was so frighteningly clear, Will thought, it was as if she was truly having a lucid conversation with him. "I never meant — I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," She sounded as if she was on her knees, pleading with someone not to take her life.

_I never meant to make you fall in love with me, _Will finished her words for her, knowing what she meant. Choking down the infernal tears in his eyes, he tugged the sheets out from underneath her body and threw them over her. He let himself wipe away one of her tears with his finger, his touch feather-light. Will moved away. After that, she seemed to calm somewhat.

Still, Will couldn't make himself leave. He stayed, and he watched, wretched, as her nightmare faded away and she lapsed into a deep sleep, her tears crisping on the pillows and her hair disheveled. She was lovely. And _not yours. She is Jem's, _he told himself firmly, disciplining his ever-rebellious mind.

He walked over to her and just as he leaned over, she turned her head slowly towards his, as if she almost knew he was there, with her. He kissed her on her head, squeezing his eyes shut, loving her and her warmth and her touch, with all the passion of the one who hates it's absence.

Will turned out the lamp and left her to her dreams; leaving himself to the prison of his thoughts.


End file.
